Red and Yellow
by Alba Aulbath
Summary: Saix, Marluxia, and Demyx are sent on a mission to a quiet place called Silent Hill.
1. before we lie

**Disclaimers and Useless/Useful Stuff to Know:**

Don't own Kingdom Hearts or Silent Hill. Never did, never will.

---

_Once upon the midnight sky  
Before they were meant to die,  
They would gasp and cling and writhe  
As they'd reach for ways to rise.  
Not once did they think before they'd die,  
Integrity equates in a lie.  
Before we lie, can we face one another?  
Before we die, can we live with each other?  
Once upon the midnight sky,  
They would all fall, doom to die._

"Are you finished?" Saix growls, giving the musician a sharp glare.

Demyx does not fumble with his instrument, but his fingers twitch and he purses his lips a little. "You said not to interrupt you," he mutters.

VII snorts; for a moment, he does not answer, attempting to remain entrapped in his own work. Where Demyx is seated on a stone protruding from the dirt and grass, Saix is crouched by a pond that remains mostly undisturbed.

Eventually, the berserker mutters, "How is singing a requiem not going to do so?"

"It's _not _a requiem," Demyx replies under his breath, as if the idea of disagreeing too loudly will draw in any further annoyed glances from the diviner. However, Saix's hearing is acute, and the glaring doesn't stop.

"I'd have been depressed, should I be capable of it," Marluxia comments, tone light. "Saix, you're taking far too long, anyway; I almost don't blame Demyx for being bored."

Saix shakes his head. "If you two would stop talking, I might be inclined to go a little _faster_."

To be honest, Demyx isn't completely sure what Saix is even _doing_. It involves a lot of mumbling from the berserker, which doesn't come out as comprehensive; he places his hands against the water, as if that might do something, and it's been like that for the past two hours.

The best guess that the musician has to his being here might have to do with guarding -- but there hasn't been so much as a sign as a shadow to cause any sort of concern. Marluxia won't answer him, so Demyx is guessing that XI probably doesn't know anything either.

Demyx slouches where he sits, watching the diviner in boredom and terribly close to dozing off.

Details were given sparsely; whatever it is that Saix is supposed to be doing or attempting to do isn't particularly obvious to Demyx. It's a lot of mumbling and a lot of waiting.

Until he hears a splash and Saix is suspiciously missing from the pond's bank.

"Um," is the most intelligent thing Demyx says.

---

When the silence was finally attained, it was easy enough to ignore the breathing patterns of the other two Nobodies behind him. For the most part, his concentration hadn't been broken, but something like singing was an easy enough distraction, calling him away from his focus.

_Parts of life I take with me this evening, I beg the God to open Her doors to me. Vine and water become your decay and your ingestion--_

He pauses when his reflection changes.

A pair of arms lift out of the water, arms straining with muscle and rot, fingers covered in gloves that should belong to a butcher.

Saix stiffens instead of moving out of the way.

The hands grab his shoulders and drags him in.

---

"The smartest thing to do at the moment, you know, would be to use your element to get him out of the water instead of staring so dumbfounded," Marluxia tells the musician, shoving his shoulder a little. "Just a thought, of course."

"Uh," Demyx responds, stumbling off of the boulder and gripping his sitar too tightly for a moment before he relaxes; his senses come back and he cradles the instrument as his fingers get to work, playing on strings until the water moves under his command.

There's a struggle, and he can't quite pull the berserker out.

"_C'mon_," Demyx grumbles under his breath. "What're you fighting against me for--?"

The water ripples, and without seeing with some specially crafted vision he can tell what is and isn't in the pond; there's more weight in there than there should be, and Saix isn't the only one in the water.

He plays a little more intensely before he can finally tug Saix away; the surface hisses as a pillar of water explodes away, throwing the diviner back to shore, coughing and curling onto his side.

Whatever was pulling on the berserker in the pond is gone, and that leaves a bit of a shiver in the musician.

"Get up," Marluxia says, in a way that manages to sound so polite yet so cruel at the same time, taking the berserker by the arm that makes Saix growl at him. "Became a little clumsy, didn't we?"

Saix snorts, pulling away from him and rising to his feet. "We're finished here," he mutters. "Are you done gaping, Demyx?"

"But, uh." Demyx frowns. "What happened? There was a... I don't know, a thing in the water--"

"Nothing but a reflection, I assure you. I will report to Xemnas; you do as you'd like."

The berserker parts, dripping wet and as impressive as a dog locked out in the rain, yet he walks and attempts to retain his pride as he exits into his portal. Marluxia merely gives him a smirk, brow raised.

"You know, there was a thing in there. Like... I don't know, I guess it was triangle-shaped...?" Demyx attempts to gesture, to show what he had sensed in the water.

"I'm sure there was," Marluxia muses. "As Saix said, we're finished here. Are you going to keep hanging around?"

Demyx gives the pond a skeptical look.

But he does leave.


	2. we've been expecting you

"I'm pretty sure I'm uncomfortable with this," Demyx announces, his tone suggesting plenty of discomfort.

He doesn't receive a verbal response. He doesn't expect one.

Through the course of seven days, it'd been fairly boring to just hang around the castle and Demyx trying not to lose another pair of pants to Luxord in a foul card game. According to Saix, that'd been the length of time needed to wait until "the path would be reopened", or some such. Really, the whole thing is still confusing and Demyx doesn't understand how the berserker comprehends it all; must be a diviner thing, he's assumed.

The trees have wilted with the moss and grass surrounding the pond; the water is filthy and Demyx doesn't want to know what tainted it. He can't help but stiffen and feel disgusted as Saix kneels into the muddy ground and places his hands into the water. Behind him, all Demyx can hear from Marluxia is the occasional "hmm" besides patterned breathing.

The Superior has briefed them, and Demyx still can't make much sense of it. Saix is giving them a way into a place drowned in Darkness, though apparently simply using portals to get in is impossible to do. They're meant to find the source of the Darkness and see how they can gain control of it.

Saix seems to understand this task better than Demyx does, and Marluxia is being tight lipped; XI is usually quite talkative, and the musician takes this to mean that, once again, Marluxia is unsure of what is truly going on.

There's a sudden siren, loud and blaring, but as IX looks around quickly to find the source it is impossible to tell. As excellent as his hearing is, finding where the noise is coming from isn't easy; there isn't a tower nearby with flashing lights of warning, nothing but a sound from no where. Marluxia's faint scowl suggests that he is equally perplexed, and yet Saix doesn't flinch. At most, he slowly rises from the bank, mud on his knees and hands soaked with filth dripping. It's fortunate, Demyx thinks in faint bemusement, that Saix is wearing gloves.

The siren begins to fade as the water in the pond begins to drain somehow; the musician can only watch in complete bafflement, as he's sure he can't see anything draining the filthy liquid.

On the other side _is_ a grate, true, but--

"This way," Saix announces, stepping down the bank. Carelessly, he's peeling off his soiled gloves and tossing them aside into the mud, already digging into his pockets to replace them with a new pair.

Demyx follows obediently, but not without some hesitation; Marluxia isn't blinking twice about it and still maintaining some sort of desire to at least act like he knows what's going on. No amount of cue cards that the musician has clears it up.

In the end, though, he knows he'd rather not ask Saix.

The berserker has his newly covered hands wrapped around part of the grating; it looks old, banged up and rusting, and no cleaner than the rest of the area that's somehow decayed so much. Saix is grunting as he pulls it off its hinges, tossing the grate aside into the mud with the rest of the filth.

The tunnel inside isn't welcoming, with the sight of more rust and grime and the smell of rot.

Demyx wrinkles his nose, and Marluxia is silently smirking at his discomfort.

Jerk.

"So I suspect this is the only entrance we can take to this town?" Marluxia asks, his voice excellent at pretending to be polite. Demyx has long since learned how fake it is, and it still annoys him -- and Saix isn't stupid and doesn't fall for the tone or delicate phrasing of words.

The berserker turns his head to look at XI, then nods slowly. "For us, at any rate. It is not your world, and we must make ourselves invited should we wish to press on. There is no convenient way of going the path we must."

Either Saix has no sense of smell or he has a trick of sorts; Demyx watches him step into the tunnel, not put off by the putrid smell at all. There's a moment on Marluxia's face that looks less than pleased at the idea of roaming around such a tunnel, but he doesn't verbally complain as he sets to follow.

Demyx hasn't much a choice but to trail after the both of them.

It's dark in the tunnel and the stench isn't easy on his senses. Breathing through his mouth somehow only has him _tasting_ the air, and that, in a way, is much worse than the offensive smell. Saix remains in the lead, not put off by the lack of light and strolls just fine with the horrid scent.

Demyx tries his best to mentally shake a fist at him. From a distance, anyway.

The walk is, no doubt, much longer than it really is; there's a discomfort in being shrouded in darkness, and Demyx isn't exactly sure if it's because he can blame an instinctual fear of Heartless, considering his condition and all. Mostly, it's because he can't quite see, save for the brief moments of bright coppery rust on the walls.

Well, he hopes it's rust.

Saix stops and the musician almost bumps into him; the diviner as his head leaning back, staring up towards the only bit of light leaking through the ceiling. There's something posted there, and Demyx tries to get onto his toes to see what it is, but he can't make it out other than it looking like a sign screwed into the cement.

"This is it," VII murmurs. "Wait there, both of you."

_Sure, what else have I been doing?_ Demyx thinks to himself, more than a little annoyed. He turns his head up to watch the berserker as he climbs a ladder attached to the wall; it's only a few feet up until the diviner is hitting against something with his forearm; a few bangs against metal, and apparently whatever Saix is hitting comes off.

Light doesn't shower them; wherever they are, it must be overcast, but enough light to reveal the sign posted on the ceiling:

**Welcome to Silent Hill.**

The musician raises his brows curiously, but after a motion from Saix, he and Marluxia are climbing up the ladder.

---

It feels like they've been wandering, and Demyx supposes it's because of his unfamiliarity with this world. That, and there's a particular mood that isn't settling with them well. The town seems simple as any other, really, but there's a heavy fog and even what seems like _snow_ is falling -- but it's not particularly cold out, making the weather a bit unusual.

Demyx assumes it's just the nature of this world.

"So," he speaks up. "Where are we going?"

Saix stops a moment, digging into his coat and bringing out a folded piece of paper. Opening it, he shows what appears to be a town map to the musician. "It depends, really, on what we can find. Keep in mind, there is a cult in this town -- and they are involved in the Darkness. We find the members of the cult, the closer to the answers we seek."

"A church, then?" Marluxia suggests.

"Not at all. We're going to the antique shop." Saix closes the map, offering it to XI. "If you two feel so compelled to know where we are--"

"And _how_, pray tell, did you come by a city map?" Marluxia asks, his smile sharp and tone suggesting suspicions -- but he does take the folded map from the diviner.

Saix raises a brow. "I did my research during the course of the time we had to wait, of course. I know what we're looking for. It must pain you to know that you must do as I say, hm?"

Marluxia scowls at him. Demyx decides it's a better idea to stay quiet for the moment.

They're back to walking in awkward silence; in spite of the map -- which Marluxia doesn't want to carry anyway and it's not really different than having a pack of cue cards so he takes it willingly -- Demyx still feels lost. The flower shop they pass by looks depressing and it doesn't help that the musician has a terrible feeling that they're being followed.

He doubts that sensation has much to do with Shadows.

Again, Saix stops, but Demyx knows they're not yet at the antique shop, but he doesn't want to ask what's going on _now_. The berserker just turns his head to stare at the store they're standing outside of, simply marked as **GARLAND'S.**

"You two," the berserker mutters. "Follow that map. I will be behind you... in a moment. But do not follow me right now."

In spite of his confusion, Demyx keeps his mouth shut; Marluxia doesn't hide his sigh of annoyance, and IX is certain that the assassin is rolling his eyes.

The musician unfolds the map. "So, uh... we keep going this way. Seems pretty direct."

"Seems pretty dull," Marluxia comments. "Let's go on, then, shall we?"

---

It's as damaged as he expected, really. The town is a mystery, and he supposes it will remain as such.

Saix is surprised that the door is still even on its hinges, though the glass is cracked.

He steps inside, walking by empty little cages and tanks. It's rank, smelling like wet fur, rot, and feces, but he doesn't let it bother him, or as much as he can prevent it from hindering his minor exploration. Cages are tipped over, as is a shelf. All that truly remains are stray papers, dog food spilled to the floor, and an old radio set on the cashier desk.

Still, he presses inside, hesitantly placing his fingertips against the top of the desk.

He shakes his head. He isn't sure what he'd been expecting by stepping inside the store, really.

The radio suddenly shrieks to life; no music or bothersome announcers are waiting to play, but noises and crackling playing loudly. Saix winces faintly, picking up the old, banged device. Obviously, it must have been left on--

_It's on the off switch_, he realizes, then lifts his head.

What stands before him has the stink of Darkness, but to his eyes seems like a Dusk. It squirms like one, and yet hasn't the hood. It's almost like it's made of all bone, pale white skin stretched over the body and won't quite fit. The mouth is obvious, jagged in an attempt to have teeth -- and bold eyes stare at him without blinking, the way a Dusk with too much respect for him would never, ever do.

He knows this isn't a Nobody.

The radio is still screaming as it advances.

Saix is calm as he holds out his hand; it's a typical summoning of his weapon. A pale moon-glow a second later, and he'll be rid of this abomination. Simple.

Somehow, the claymore doesn't appear.

Something like panic doesn't quite run through him, but he's certainly concerned now, especially as the creature starts to wriggle closer to him, and the radio isn't calming. Saix takes a step back, narrowing his eyes and glancing around a moment.

Behind the counter, a crowbar--

Good enough.

The diviner takes the rusted piece a metal into his hand. It's not a claymore, but he knows it'll do.

---

"He's acting weird," Demyx decides to announce. "Or -- okay, Saix always acts weird. And... well, everyone else, too. I mean, uh -- you get what I mean, right? Ever since we got here, I got this funny feeling that he knows a lot more than he's _saying_ or--"

"Obviously, Saix has overdone his research to impress Xemnas," Marluxia responds in a bored tone. "How close are we?"

The musician frowns a little at being interrupted, but he looks at the map. "Uh... well, I think, if we take a left--"

"Hey-- excuse me, you two?"

Demyx pauses, Marluxia really doesn't as he continues his walk down the street. Turning his head, IX spots an unfamiliar man heading towards him. Older, dirty blonde hair -- really normal-looking man.

A really normal-looking man carrying a plank of _wood_, anyway.

"You're the first actual people I've seen since coming here -- do you have any idea what's going on?" the man asks, frowning faintly but his tone surprisingly calm.

"Uh, actually... I'm really clueless." Demyx grins a bit sheepishly. "What do you mean, actual people?"

"You haven't seen them?" The man sounds surprised. "There's monsters in this town, and I haven't seen anyone when I got here. Every place is abandoned -- or... well, I've found dead bodies, when I'm lucky."

The idea of monsters almost hits Demyx's funny bone; Heartless, he expects of course.

"Nope, no idea," Demyx replies honestly enough. "If you haven't found anyone, why are you still hanging around?"

"That's... a bit complicated. But I guess there's no harm in asking." The man digs into his jacket, pulling out a photograph. "This is ... my wife, Mary. I'm looking for her here. I think... she might be waiting for me. Have you seen her?"

He can't find himself caring of course, though in Demyx it's a natural reaction to be fairly honest. He takes a look, squinting, then shakes his head. "Doesn't look familiar. But, uh... if I see her, who should I say is looking for her?"

"James. My name is James. I guess... I'll just keep on going. I'm heading towards the park. If you... happen to see her, tell her I'm going that way?"

Demyx doubts it. He does. But he nods anyway. "Yeah, I don't see why not. Hey, um... good luck, okay?"

"You too. Be careful."

The musician watches the man go, and rubs the back of his head. When he turns to follow Marluxia, XI is already marching towards him, looking thoroughly annoyed.

"Huh? What's wrong-- hey!" Demyx complains as the plant-shaper takes the map.

"That way," Marluxia mutters, "is blocked off. This map is obviously outdated. Are you done making friends with the locals?"

"Oh come on, it was just some guy looking for his wife. I think he saw some Heartless, through."

Marluxia snorts. "What else do you expect from a town infest with so much Darkness? If we think it smells so bad, Zexion would _faint_ coming here. Anyway, we need to find another way to the antique shop. And _what_ is taking Saix so _long?_"

"Maybe we should go back and find him? He seems like he knows his way around okay," Demyx suggests. "And what he's doing."

Marluxia makes a non-commitive noise. Demyx takes it to mean _fine_.

---

When the radio fizzles to silence and the monster _deflates_, of all things, into a mere pile of flesh before him, Saix pants a little. That was far more exhausting than it should have been. He looks at the end of the crowbar, a little more dented than before, but no blood.

He shakes his head; taking the strap to the radio, he places it over his shoulder. The noise seems to be an indicator of one of the creatures being nearby. It'll be a good warning, he expects.

He gives the store another glance over his shoulder before he steps outside. Lifting his head, Saix looks into the clouded sky, feeling a snowflake or two touch his face. It's overcast, but that shouldn't _mean_ anything--

He doesn't feel any power. No power.

That means, no moon.

He's utterly powerless, and all he has is a _crowbar_.

"Lovely," Saix growls.

There's a series of footsteps running towards him. Instinctively, Saix tightens his grip on the crowbar and turns to see, even though the radio doesn't react. Seeing it to be only Demyx and Marluxia, he relaxes.

But only a fraction.

"Hey! What's kept you so busy?" Demyx asks.

"Bad company," Saix replies. "Summon your weapons."

Marluxia lifts a brow. "Excuse me?"

"Summon. Your. Weapons."

The musician gives XI a brief, confused look, but he shrugs and obeys. He lifts his hand, expecting to easily form water and with it his sitar. In turn, Marluxia has a graceful hand lifted for his scythe.

Nothing comes. Not a droplet, not even a blossom or a petal.

"Damn it," Saix hisses, turning around sharply and running down the street.

Demyx almost doesn't follow, mostly out of shock in finding no instrument in his hand. He stammers a moment, then gives up on trying to form words as he follows after Marluxia and the berserker, not quite knowing where they're headed.

The diviner stops, kneeling down and brushing a small layer of snow away from the street, muttering something to himself. Eventually, he finds the manhole cover, but snarls and slams a fist against it. "It's sealed!" Saix hisses. "Sealed off."

"Huh?" Demyx kneels down, trying to find a way to pull it off -- but he finds that Saix is correct. The manhole is completely sealed off. "Uh... well, we can still, you know, just ... walk and leave, right? Like normal people? That James guy, he's here, he--"

"No. It's _not_ that easy. We can't leave until we are _permitted_," Saix growls. "The ritual I performed -- I thought it could give us a way out. Simply walking in would have kept us separated from the rest of the worlds, but this--"

Maruxia interrupts sharply, "And _what_ does that mean, Saix?"

"Obviously, we're trapped -- and with very unpleasant company."


	3. in the fog

For the past half hour of attempting to follow a map that's being particularly fussy, Demyx has tried several times to summon a portal mentally. It should come easily and instinctively, like breathing and blinking -- but there's no swirling shadows inviting him a way out of this ghost town.

Marluxia is much less relaxed and the musician can understand why, but it still doesn't make it any less surreal. The way he holds himself is less grace; he's much more stiff.

Kind of the way Saix always walks, like something just might jump out at them from any corner.

The way the berserker holds the crowbar seems to suggest as much.

They come up to yet another blockade; a brick wall is in their way, marked with graffiti and splatters of other liquid that has long since dried. Saix is frowning, placing the fingertips of his gloved hand against the wall. He mutters, "This shouldn't be here."

"Your map is obviously useless," Marluxia remarks, not hiding the bite from his tone. "Honestly, you _think_ you know what you're doing--"

"More than you do," the berserker replies. "If we must make adjustments, very well. Demyx, hold this." Shrugging the radio's strap from his shoulder, Saix hands it to the musician, though IX can't help but offer an expression of confusion.

Demyx gives the device a glance-over, turning the knob experimentally until he finds it to give only mild fuzzy sounds in return, nothing more. "Why are we even carrying this around, anyway?"

A response isn't immediate; Saix has a pen in hand, marking the map, giving appropriate X's where there are blockades. Eventually, after capping the pen, all he says is, "You'll find out as we continue on."

While scowling is not a skill that Demyx has mastered just yet, he does attempt to give his strongest glare possible. The lack of answers that the diviner is giving them is becoming ridiculous. They're stuck in a town that is unusually misty, their powers aren't working, and there's apparently Heartless lurking around; not that they have to be concerned over their hearts, but they're just as capable of getting physically injured as anyone else.

They continue down the street. Saix keeps scribbling notes onto the map, which squeaks and becomes their only company in the midst of the unusual silence. There are times when Demyx glances over his shoulder, absolutely positive that he'd seen Shadows squirm around somewhere--

But with the rolling fog, it's almost impossible to tell.

Eventually, somewhere along the way, Marluxia gets fed up and snatches the map from the berserker; Saix doesn't put up a fight and simply offers the pen. Wrinkling his nose in annoyance -- perhaps at the fact that Saix _didn't_ argue about the map being taken away -- Marluxia snatches the pen and pockets it.

They try their way around, every which way possible, to get to the antique shop. Every silent road, every quiet street -- every way is blocked off.

Saix merely raises a brow in his confusion. "Mm."

"It seems as though something or someone doesn't wish to let us near there." Marluxia's smile, much like his tone, is not particularly nice. "Now what?"

There's a loud noise; the radio screams to life, offering nothing but booming static. It's enough to make Demyx jump suddenly at the volume, giving the radio a nervous look before he relaxes somewhat. Though he fiddles with the knobs, the noise does not change any. It stays loud -- impending.

"What the hell is wrong with this thing?" the musician mutters.

"Stand back," Saix says, not bothering with an explanation.

It doesn't make sense -- not at first. The diviner is already stepping in front of Demyx, holding onto the crowbar tightly enough to suggest that their lives just might depend on it -- and that thought alone is frightening enough. Demyx doesn't move, trying not to cringe at the way the radio is howling static.

He double-takes when he sees something wriggling towards them through the fog.

It's not easy to see immediately; it looks to be the average size of a human, though it struggles to walk, jerking and twitching too much to be anything _normal_. With how completely pitch black it is, the first thought that comes to mind is that it ought to be misty and more hunched like a Heartless -- but instead of such, it _drips_ something and it smells _rancid_, rotten, like something long past the stage of having just died.

Demyx tries not to feel sick. He instinctively attempts to summon his sitar, then mentally slaps himself after remembering he's powerless. The thought of being absolutely vulnerable finally sinks it. Though he's never much favored fighting -- not to be mistaken with being _incapable_ -- Demyx hasn't felt so defenseless in quite awhile.

He finally starts to back up, and he wishes he could just throw the radio away, as it keeps shrieking that same _noise_.

Marluxia isn't cowering away, but he's not stepping up to help Saix, either; his eyes are locked on to the dripping _thing_ and maybe the idea of almost feeling _naked_ out here is finally settling into him, too.

The way Saix moves is violent, though as far as Demyx can remember, the diviner has always been brutal in a fight. The way he swings the crowbar is no different than his claymore, save for the fact that it's not nearly as sharp as the blade; though blunt, Saix has no problem bludgeoning the creature to death. It gives a gurgled shriek at the first strike, stumbling back. The end of the crowbar is already covered in the terrible smelling stuff, dripping thickly.

The berserker swings again at the dripping monster, striking it; although it tumbles back some, it seems to have no problem gaining its footing again, swinging the back of its arm into the diviner's throat. Saix moves back, hand going to his neck and choking as he tries to catch his breath.

"Well?" Marluxia suddenly snaps at Demyx, making him jump a little.

"Wh-what?" Demyx stammers; he can't help but feel _frozen_ in his spot while Saix is actually _struggling_ with this thing, while under normal circumstances he would have cleaved it in half already.

"Well, _do_ something already."

Demyx _sputters_. "Me?! What do you want me to do, _dance at it?_ And what about you?!"

There's the stomach-twisting sound that's a mix of a CRACK! and something very wet having been hit. The head of the creature skips against the pavement before it rolls a little; the body dropping to its knees before falling into a disgustingly wet mess on the ground.

Saix pants, sounding a little more raspy while clutching the crowbar in his hands.

The radio quiets, but the static doesn't quite go away, lingering.

"Was... was that a _Heartless?_" Demyx manages to ask, hesitantly approaching the berserker. VII cringes back, glaring at him for the offer of contact; wisely, the musician keeps his distance.

"I would say yes," Saix rasps, rubbing his throat. "The radio reacts appropriately, when one approaches us. A good enough warning."

"Then I would _suggest_ we get out of here; it's not exactly silent," Marluxia snaps at the both of them.

The diviner pauses, frowning; he turns his head, side to side, before he looks up.

He doesn't move.

Demyx looks up, and he has the nastiest chill running up his spine.

The building across from them has faded writing: **STONE BUTCHER'S**. The windows are cracked and filthy, appropriate to match the rest of the town. The way it has been built is not terribly tall, a rather _simple_ store, really. The roof is low enough to be see, even in the fog.

Enough to see that someone -- or something -- is standing on it.

It might be a man. Demyx can't quite tell that easily, but there's the dreaded sense of familiarity, and he can't think immediately of _why_. It looks like a man in a butcher's smock and boots, almost normal enough -- blood stains aside -- but the most prominent feature is the helmet it wears, shaped like a pyramid. In one hand, it carries ... a giant sword, or knife; Demyx could never really tell much the difference.

He tries to think of why it's familiar. It almost escapes him, when he remembers the last time they'd gone to the pond before all this, something had been in the water with Saix.

A distinct triangle-shaped thing.

"Come on," Saix hisses, turning and swiftly running down the road.

"H-hey! Wait up!" Demyx calls after him, finally tearing his eyes off the pyramid thing to chase after Saix. Marluxia keeps up better, maybe because he doesn't feel threatened or curious or both -- the musician isn't sure.

"Where are we even _going?_ There's no way to the antique shop!" Marluxia demands.

Saix turns a corner. "There's one last way. We can go through the apartment building. Once we get to the other side, then that won't be a problem."

The radio begins to die down finally, but Demyx's nerves aren't any better in spite of it. "It's that simple?"

The diviner gives him a _look_. "I never claimed that."

The only fortunate thing about the matter is how close the apartment building is. They slow down finally, and yet Demyx still feels he's not quite catching his breath, no matter how deep he breathes. He hates to admit to himself that he's trembling a little.

At least Saix has a _crowbar_; anything but a radio on him would be nice to have, at least to _try_ to defend himself with.

The diviner pushes the door open; it creaks loudly, obvious of rust and lack of care to oil it. He holds it open after he goes inside, waiting to let the others go in with him.

The lobby is a mess, but it comes as no surprise. The air is stagnant, and in a way it's also heavy and damp. Something no doubt waits to happen, and all they can rely on is a _radio_, which doesn't help their way much. It's too dark in the lobby, and Demyx expects the rest of the building to be similar.

"We should look around here first," Saix says. It's not a suggestion, but Demyx agrees with him.

The musician keeps the radio strap around his shoulders, careful to carry the device's weight with him. He hops over the counter, shuffling around to explore whatever the desk may contain. Most the drawers are filled with rotted, wet paper -- nothing interesting or unusual.

He does pause at one item in the drawer to the bottom left. Taking it out, he turns on the flashlight.

To his amazement, it works. At the very least, Saix gives his grunt of approval, but doesn't stop looking around for himself. IX shrugs and leaves the flashlight on the desk, which illuminates part of the room. He continues to search the drawers; there aren't any keys or much else of interest, though he listens to Saix tear some kind of paper from the wall and Marluxia picking up something from the corner of the room.

While Demyx is crouched down on the floor and looking under the desk, he hears the door creak open again; instinctively, he jerks, his head bumping against the counter.

The radio stays silent, though, and he grumbles as he starts to stand up, rubbing his head. "Who...?"

At the entrance of the lobby at where they had originally come in from stands a young woman. Her skin is a bit of a sickly color, her hair dark and stopping at the shoulders; she wears clothes too long, too baggy for the humid weather outside.

Her dark eyes are wide, alert, and she backs against the wall as she tenses up. "I, uh... I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come in and--"

Marluxia gives Saix a look, and Demyx starts to know what it means when they find someone with enough darkness in one's heart. This is a normal girl, a normal girl with a _heart_ -- not like the rest of the town.

As Demyx thinks of it, he knows he felt the same thing from that guy, James.

Saix nods to Marluxia and turns around to continue his search.

Marluxia's smile is deceivingly gentle. "No need to apologize."

"I, uh... oh. Oh, okay." The girl relaxes a fraction, her eyes settling on Marluxia, as if looking at anything else might be terrifying. "I... I didn't think I'd see anyone else here. I thought... I thought I might..."

"Civilization has been scarce, admittedly. What brings you here?" Marluxia muses.

"I'm... I'm looking for my mama." The term sounds completely adolescent, even to the young woman, as she quickly amends the word, "I mean. I mean, my mother. I thought... maybe, she's here. I can't find her anywhere else. Have... have you seen...?"

"We saw some guy earlier, carrying a plank of wood," Demyx offers almost helpfully, though the girl seems to tense as he speaks.

"I'm afraid we haven't seen much anyone else, as you can understand," Marluxia confirms. "What's your name?"

"A...Angela." Her voice remains timid enough, but her eyes keep trained to XI's face. "My name's Angela."

"Angela. All right. Though we have not seen your mother... perhaps it's best if you carry on to find her. But, I certainly wouldn't want you to be defenseless," Marluxia continues, his voice remaining calm and deceptively pleasant. He takes Angela's hand -- which makes her cringe -- and places a knife there. "So nothing terrible happens to you without your say so, hm?"

"Okay. Okay-- please, let go." Angela pulls herself away, finally breaking her gaze from Marluxia. She holds the knife tightly at the handle. "I'm... I'll go look for my mama. G-good luck, whatever you're doing, and... and I'm sorry I interrupted."

She steps away, slowly at first, then bolts up the stairs. Eventually, Demyx is sure that she enters a room, as he flinches at the sound of a door slamming.

Marluxia folds his arms. "Well. No need to stop working, even while we're ridiculously marooned here, hm?"

"I don't get it. You gave her something to _defend_ herself with -- how's darkness going to consume her _that_ way?" Demyx asks, a little puzzled.

"Fragile little thing. At this point, I doubt she'll have anything to worry about except from herself," XI replies. "Besides, a knife's not much my style."

Saix snorts and shakes his head. "You can't afford to be picky right now. Demyx, come here."

The musician shrugs and hops over the counter. He finds the berserker holding out a rusted, metal pipe to him; hesitantly, Demyx accepts it. It's a little heavier than he likes, but he doesn't want to be picky. "Thanks, I guess," he mutters.

The diviner turns to Marluxia. "And a map. Here. I didn't find much else."

XI snatches the parchment of paper from him, stuffing it into a pocket. "Hm, nor I. Oh, don't give me that look, Saix; you've been tense since we saw that thing on top of that building--"

"I am _not_," Saix hisses, first, a bit indignant, but he continues on to escape the subject of the pyramid thing. "And _you_ still think too lightly. What little powers we _can_ use are only knowing a fraction of darkness in a being's heart. Something even a common _Dusk_ can do, and we're barely more than that right now," Saix growls. "Should you become separated from us without anything to defend yourself with, you will be helpless."

Marluxia scowls at him, but says nothing. He turns and takes the flashlight from the desk, pointing it up the stairs. "_Well?_ Lead on, if you know so much."

Wordlessly, Saix goes up the creaking stairs. Marluxia is behind him, Demyx in third. The musician hates how the wood feels under his boots. In spite of the humidity, it feels dry and broken, ready to give way under them at any moment. IX frowns a little, and tries to keep a good foot between him and Marluxia while they still remain in one another's presence.

The other two Nobodies aren't exactly comforting, but Demyx would rather not be alone at the moment.

"So... that pyramid thing," Demyx hesitantly mentions. "I think... you know, that first time we were at the pond and Saix was doing his diviner thing? I think that's the thing that dragged him in."

"So it crossed over from its world first," Marluxia muses faintly. "Is that location we used particularly important, Saix?"

The diviner remains silent for a moment, and only pauses when they're at the stop of the stairs. "It's the place I woke up as a Nobody. The place Vexen found me."

Demyx hates the feeling of being puzzled, but at the same time, he knows he's getting used to it. "Well... so what? I was found on a beach with man-eating plants. What's that mean?"

Saix shakes his head. "The location is important, but difficult to explain. Two strong life-giving elements, opposite of the world we're in now..."

Slowly, Marluxia lowers the flashlight. Even in the dark, Demyx can make out the outline of Marluxia's scowl. "What _did_ you do to open a gate into Silent Hill?"

"...A ritual. After much research, I had to make ourselves invited, or so I thought. That life-giving elements had to be sacrificed in order to find a way here. The pond, the forest around it -- that, and you two. I thought that would be enough. I didn't entirely understand it. As long as we're here... your powers are eaten away by this place. They won't be with you, until we leave once more."

There's deadly silence. Demyx's grip tightens on the lead pipe, and there's a very desirable urge to hit Saix with it, but he refrains from doing so.

He knows if they had hearts, he'd definitely have done it.

Marluxia has no problem invading Saix's space, glaring at him as much as he can manage to, taking hold of the front of his coat. "You did that, and without our _knowing_ so. How excellent to know that Xemnas has placed us in such considerable hands."

Saix remains silent, but he turns his gaze away, narrowing his eyes.

"Hm. From now on, I'm taking lead. And I don't care what you have to say about it," Marluxia tells the berserker. "You've done plenty enough damage, don't you think?"

In a case of sides, Demyx would rather not take any between either of these two. He's not terribly fond of either of them, and they aren't exactly friendly either -- scary, in most cases.

However, at the moment, he can't help but silently agree with Marluxia.

Though he's a little shocked to see Saix's lack of fight as XI steps in front of him, unfolding the map and taking lead, with Saix following instead.

It'd been uncomfortable between them before, it's worse now.

The flashlight in the dark doesn't help at all ward off the curling chill in the air.


	4. tenants, ten ants, teen aunts

The most prominent smell in the apartments is difficult to say. There's a mix of something rancid, which really isn't too different than the rest of the town so far. Still, it's damp and the wood creaks under their feet uncomfortably. Several things have either urinated, bled, died, or all of the above in this place, and somehow with even _that_ description in mind it's not enough to capture just how ungodly it is. 

It's hard to see and it's cramped in the hallways. They're stuck in single file, and Demyx finds himself uncomfortably in the middle, gritting his teeth as Saix is practically up against him and breathing down his neck. He doesn't want to squirm closer to Marluxia as they continue on, but he doesn't like at all how close they're all together. Demyx has never been claustrophobic, but he suspects he's going to develop that real soon. There's a dumb fear in him that's screaming that the walls will collapse at any second, but no matter how much the floors groan under them, he doubts it.

So far, they're lucky; the radio hasn't shrieked static in awhile, though a bit earlier on in the hallway they had the glory of facing off with rather skeletal-looking creatures that makes him think of the Dusks. The thought is uncomfortable, and he doesn't like so far how much the Heartless so far seem to be far creepier than anything they've experienced.

Being practically defenseless doesn't help, of course. Even though Demyx has the lead pipe in his hands, swinging it wildly at an enemy isn't so easy.

Saix, of course, bludgeons things like a pro -- which is a good thing, Demyx supposes, but he keeps in mind exactly whose fault it is that they're stuck like this. Not that IX can harbor the anger, if he feels even that. No heart, no anger -- but he's certain he's at least _annoyed._

Either way, the diviner has been fairly silent.

They're wandering, mostly, even if Marluxia has a map. Most of the doors they've tried so far are locked, and the few they've managed open have offered very little in the way of clues and supplies. At best, they've discovered rotten food, and that's it.

Demyx has the distinct feeling they're going to be here awhile until they can get to the other side.

At various doors that are locked, Saix _has_ tried brute force to kick it down or knock it open, but any attempts do not work. He has simply shrugged to them and remarked that if they are closed, they are meant to be closed.

IX suspects this is code for "you can't do any better than that, so don't try."

Since they've arrived and wandered in Silent Hill, estimating a length of time is difficult, but it's been a few hours, Demyx expects. Eventually, he's discovering a very difficult problem, and it expresses itself in a loud grumble in his rather empty stomach.

Marluxia only stops to give him a _look_ over his shoulder.

"I didn't think our mission would take _this_ long," Demyx defends himself. "Come on, aren't either one of you hungry?"

"It would be best to pause and get our bearings," Saix suggests. "Unless, of course, you oppose, Marluxia."

If it's up to XI, then Demyx has doubt that they'll pause at all. The musician tries not to look disappointed that Saix is seriously allowing Marluxia to make the call. For a moment, the plant-shaper raises a brow, as if he's not sure about taking either of them seriously -- but then, Demyx hears something unusual.

Someone's stomach growling. It almost makes Demyx twitch from all of the creepiness they've endured so far, but he knows it's a normal enough sound. Marluxia's expression goes flat, and the musician tries not to grin at him; obviously, XI is just as hungry as he is.

"_If_ we find something edible, then fine," the assassin responds.

Silently, Demyx gives a little cheer.

The next room they take to is on the left-hand side; the interior carries the same rotten appearance as the rest of the damned place. The table is overturned, broken in half with various pieces scattered, as if something had landed or was thrown against it. There's blotches of black gunk staining it, almost fresh-looking. Marluxia noticeably wrinkles his nose in disgust; he and Demyx stay where they are as Saix approaches to look it over. He holds up the end of his crowbar, which is covered in the splatters of the Heartless-like creatures they've run into before.

"I'd say company is nearby," the berserker murmurs.

Demyx frowns. "But the radio--"

"Keep on you toes anyway," Saix advises. He pries off one of the legs to the table, thin on the bottom and thick on top with a couple of nails sticking out of it, like a crudely made bat. Standing, he holds it out to Marluxia, who simply gives him a look.

"So you want me to swing this around in my best impression of you?" XI asks, not quite sneering but certainly close to it. "This isn't much my style."

"Perhaps you should follow Demyx's example and keep your mouth shut and simply do what you _must_ to survive," Saix suggests sharply. "At this rate, there's no telling how long we'll be wandering this place until we get to the antique shop."

Demyx can't tell if that's a compliment or not, so he decides frowning is the best expression.

Marluxia snorts. "If you think I'm going to--"

There's static screaming to life, but not from the radio. The TV against the wall is suddenly on; though the screen is cracked, the image isn't much distorted -- not that there's anything to see but snow. There's a muffling sound, like a voice trying to speak up from the television.

Demyx winces and covers his ears as the radio starts to react, a high-pitched sound coming from it along with the usual static crackling along. Marluxia might be wincing -- Demyx can't tell -- but Saix hasn't moved from his spot, staring intently at the screen.

There's an image that seems to struggle to be seen -- a _person_. It's not clear, a mop of stringy hair framing a man's face. Lips are moving, words can barely be heard.

Slowly, VII advances to the television, kneeling down and scowling as he reaches out to touch the screen. "You...?" Saix murmurs.

"Don...kitch... go in th..." the voice can barely make out.

Demyx is still gritting his teeth against the noise from the radio, not able to hear much of anything -- much _less_ the man speaking on the TV.

It's suddenly clear, both the image and the words; the man has dried blood splattered across his badly shaved face, tired but determined eyes, and he shouts through the static,

"**DON'T GO IN THE KITCHEN!!**"

IX stumbles back from the sudden shout; Saix stands away, as if startled, though by the man's face or the words the musician can't tell. The radio barely dies down, the high-pitched sound gone but the familiar fuzzy noises staying.

There's an ungodly squealing noise from the direction of the kitchen, and the musician can't help but freeze and he's certain that neither Marluxia nor Saix know quite what to make of this. They aren't moving either, though the diviner is looking towards where the sound came from, squinting faintly and clutching his crowbar much more tightly.

Eventually, Marluxia is turning to the kitchen, as if to purposefully disobey the strange warning from the television. Demyx _wants_ to snap at him and not do something that'll get them in a tight spot, but he doesn't find it in himself to say anything, much less _move_, though he hears Saix giving a growl and moving to stop the assassin.

"He said not to go in there," VII hisses at him, trying to ignore the sound of something wriggling around in the kitchen, as well as an increasing sound of something banging against metal.

Marluxia prefers to act like it's not giving him an unsettling feeling. "We don't even know who 'he' is, much less if we take a warning like that seriously. And I am _tired_ of you giving me orders, Saix, especially when all of this is your fault anyway."

The diviner can't argue that. He gives an annoyed sigh and steps away from Marluxia.

Eventually, Demyx's legs start to work finally. He stumbles after Marluxia, who is shining the flashlight towards the noises, and the radio only becomes louder. Around the corner, he looks and he sees--

It's that _pyramid thing_ again, moving enough to bang the Heartless-like monster against what looks like an oven. The way the pyramid thing moves is far too _suggestive_; the monster dripping the black, oily gunk is the one making the squealing noise--

Until the pyramid thing is _tearing it in half._

Demyx is stumbling back before either one of them, his appetite gone in a flash as his stomach rolls uncomfortably in him. The only reason he's not vomiting, he bets, is because he hasn't eaten in awhile, but he's gagging and holding his mouth anyway. The image is still not gone from his mind.

Saix seems to do the smart thing, and he's _booking it_ out of the room, slamming the door shut. The noise is loud enough to put sense back into Marluxia and he's turning around to leave, grabbing Demyx by the hood and dragging him along; he's sure the timing couldn't be better as he hears the pyramid thing start to move in slow, heavy steps _towards_ them.

The door slams shut behind Demyx with the flat of Marluxia's boot. Saix is leaning against the wall, holding his head in one hand, muttering, "How did it get here so fast...?"

"Who the hell cares?" Demyx manages to sputter out. "We need to get out of here; I don't think any amount of swinging a pipe will hurt that thing! And-- uh, _ugh_." He's not throwing up, he's not, but he doubles over and holds his stomach. He can't tell what part of him is faking emotion and what part is actually fearfully disgusted, but he's certain _memory_ has to do with it and that's enough to make him feel sick.

The radio has gone quiet for now, but it's not comforting. Marluxia gives him a light shove and it's enough to wake Demyx up to move.

"We'll find a room that locks, then," the assassin says. "If it has actual food, all the better."

No one argues the idea. Saix closes his eyes and nods, and Demyx doesn't do anything, but his nerves are humming and he's ready to just leave this damned place.

Marluxia is taking lead again, but his stride is a little less arrogant now.

They wander, mostly, or as much as they can in a straight hallway like this. All the doors so far are already locked or have no lock to them. When they stop in front of a door to try it, Marluxia stops, noticing a note taped to it. He pauses, then tears it off. Giving it a look, he shrugs and offers it to the other Nobodies behind him.

"I don't understand it," the assassin remarks. "Probably nonsense."

Demyx takes it, and he knows Saix is staring over his shoulder to read it.

**Abstract Illusions Can't Work.**

"What?" Demyx mutters. It _doesn't_ make sense.

Saix is moving away, looking at the door Marluxia took the note down from. His fingers trace over the numbers: **302.**

"We should go inside," the diviner says. "Demyx, let me have that."

The musician shrugs and hands the note to VII. "All yours. Does it make sense to you?"

"Not really," Saix admits, neatly folding the note and putting it into his coat. He offers no other explanation, and Demyx supposes he'll have to just accept that.

The door creaks as Marluxia opens it, glancing around inside before he steps in. The other two follow him, listening to the assassin announce, "Well, it seems to have a lock."

After they're all inside, Saix shuts it and turns the lock. Turning the knob, he gives the door a try, and nods satisfactorily as it stays shut. Even more relieving, the radio stays quiet, and there seems to be no sign of much besides the usual rank smell and appearance of the room. It's not quite as sparse as the others, though just as broken down. A couch, stray chairs -- there's even a bulletin board with various news articles pinned against it, all fairly old-looking.

Demyx is hesitant to step towards the kitchen. He still feels sick, especially with the thought in mind of what they found last time.

"I'll look," Saix volunteers. "Demyx, go and see if you can find anything useful."

The musician glances to him, then nods a little. Some activity might help calm his nerves, he supposes.

Marluxia seems either bored or easily distracted; he's turned away, looking at a desk littered with papers, the only thing really standing out being a framed photo. Not that Demyx is really paying attention; he turns and looks over the bulletin board.

The clippings are various and Demyx can't keep his attention to it, mostly because they don't seem too important and he feels squeamish as it is. Reading about a little girl being a burn victim and some guy named Isaac Stone committing suicide isn't precisely comforting to him. He turns away from the board and sets about exploring the room, though in the end he finds little to be useful to their situation.

Eventually, Saix returns, tossing a bag of potato chips at the musician; IX almost doesn't catch it, looking inside and feeling relief that the food _isn't_ rotten. Almost immediately, he's shoving a handful into his mouth and eating.

"If you think I'm going to eat _that_--" Marluxia mutters, narrowing his eyes.

"I think you will, if you don't want to starve," Saix responds, shoving another bag into the assassin's hands. "Eat."

It's not exactly a meal, but Demyx isn't complaining, though he hears XI grumble and reluctant crunches of the chips can be heard.

There are better desires than greasy, salty potato chips. The idea of ripe fruit and juice running down his chin is far more delightful, especially while being trapped in such a place full of decay and lack of life. Demyx has little taste for meat, but even that wouldn't be such a bad thing at the moment, something more filling than this -- but he isn't going to whine.

This will do, and sleep is just as ideal. He glances at Saix -- who seems to be a particularly fast eater and there's no sign of an empty bag from him -- and Marluxia. Neither one of them look quite so eager to go back out into the hallway and explore.

"We can sleep here, right? I mean... c'mon, I'm exhausted. And it still feels like we have a long way to go." Demyx is expecting frowns of disapproval from them, but so far Saix only has a blank look and Marluxia prefers to look at something else in the room. "Come on--"

"We'll have to take turns. Quiet as this room is, we aren't safe anywhere in this town, I can promise you that," Saix says. "An hour for each of us?"

More like a nap, Demyx thinks sourly to himself, but he doesn't argue. "Yeah, sure."

"I'm going first," Marluxia cuts in. He doesn't wait to give Saix a look, as if demanding some opposition. "Well?"

"Fine with me," is all the diviner says.

XI scowls and turns away, pushing by Demyx to claim the couch. Dust flies up as Marluxia attempts to get comfortable on it, keeping his back to the other two Nobodies as he attempts to sleep. As Demyx is finishing his chips quickly before XI goes to sleep, Saix is turning away and sitting at the desk with scattered papers. The musician supposes out of any of them who has the patience to go through it all, it might be Saix.

It's quiet, and Demyx's eyelids feel too heavy already. He sighs and takes a chair so he can sit by the berserker, though he knows VII barely counts as company, especially when Saix isn't even giving him a glance of attention.

"So... these monsters we're seeing. They're definitely Heartless, right?" Demyx knows to keep his voice low. Marluxia is already mostly unpleasant, and he fathoms a cranky one is even worse.

"Mm. Yes, they are," Saix murmurs, taking his time to put the papers into piles.

Demyx frowns. "But... why did some of those things look kind of like Dusks, but way creepier? And that drippy... black thing? And the pyramid thing."

The diviner frowns faintly, turning his head to look at Demyx. "When you look at a Dusk, back in the World That Never Was -- what do you think?"

The musician chews his lip a little, giving an honest answer. "I'm glad that I'm not like that."

"The Heartless that look like Dusks -- they remind us how much we're relieved to have the forms we do. Doesn't it? Or perhaps... it's the core of ourselves. Right now, we're just as powerless as a Dusk, after all," Saix continues, thoughtful. "Mm. Heartless, that look like things we think of, have thought of, maybe... felt, when we used to be whole."

Demyx raises a brow. "How's that possible? Heartless haven't ever done that before."

"Because this town is... special. The Darkness that drowns this place is so overwhelming, but so different -- unlike anything you've ever seen. Incredible, isn't it? How these things are twisted to represent matters that linger in ourselves."

"So the Shadow-like one is based on what we think of the Heartless, but..." Demyx scratches his head. "What about the pyramid thing?"

Saix glances away. "Who knows. Perhaps we should keep track of these Heartless. I know that if Vexen were here, that's what he would do -- and it seems like a good idea right now."

---

He knows this sensation.

Slowly, he's sinking. All around him, all sides, there is pressure; when he tries to move it's like swimming through molasses, and that's when he knows, he _knows_ he's there again. Panic settles in and his pulse increases and his instincts are screaming at him to struggle. He tries, he definitely tries, but he can hardly move as he's being pulled down further and further.

He gags and he's _drowning._

This isn't water, it isn't water, it's much worse, and the further he goes, he realizes that it's too late for him, and Darkness will capture him and everything inside of him will _die._

He hits bottom.

It's that dead silence, the particular blackout when his senses are rising that he realizes he's been dreaming. Instinctively, Marluxia gags and rolls over onto his side, coughing and nothing comes out -- but he expects it.

"Marluxia?" Demyx calls out over his shoulder. "You okay?"

The assassin gives him a flat look. "Swallowed a bug."

"It's been about an hour," Saix cuts in. "Demyx, go ahead."

Getting up from the couch is almost a chore, but Marluxia manages it and with some grace returning to him, slowly. Demyx is all too cheerful to have his turn, immediately pilfering rights to the couch and plopping down onto his side and curling up like a newborn.

XI shakes his head and stands away.

Nothing seems to have changed much in the last hour, though silently he finds himself grateful. Something consistent is nice right now, and with no monsters joining them or jumping at the sound of static for awhile? Complete and utter relief.

Not that he'd admit to himself entirely that he's been completely disheveled with all of these events. Nothing makes sense in this place and it's almost as if Silent Hill is taunting them somehow.

Marluxia turns to look at Saix; the diviner has his back to him, sitting completely upright and perfectly. Lips move slowly, as if he's mouthing words as he reads them -- or trying to understand them. The way that VII is positioned is almost impressive, remaining completely still as if he practiced this since he had used to be whole as a Somebody.

"Find something interesting, I hope?" the assassin remarks. He doesn't hide the volume of his voice, not when he can already hear Demyx snoring.

Saix doesn't jump or turn to even look at Marluxia; the lack of physical attention annoys him, but at least VII answers him at all. "Various things, however nothing solid. These are but notes left behind of who might have been here -- or who have died here. With the Darkness drowning this place, who can possibly say for sure?"

He doesn't want to think that he's at all interested in whatever it is that Saix is reading or doing, but he looks over his shoulder anyway, not paying attention to their lack of personal space. The idea of making Saix uncomfortable at all has its merits; it's a stupid time for it, and Marluxia knows it, but he doesn't want to drop the opportunity of finding a way to make the other Nobody somewhat vulnerable -- or at least _finding_ a weakness.

So far, he hasn't truly found anything.

He spies a sheet of paper written in Saix's terribly neat handwriting, dots on the "i"s far too circular and periods as well. It makes it easy to read, unlike the scribbles of the first six members of the Organization, which is like trying to make sense out of chicken scratches into actual _words. _

"'Dim Frame'? 'Slip Shadow'? I hope you didn't come up with those names; how uncreative," Marluxia remarks, snatching the piece of paper from the desk Saix is at.

"Mm," is the most verbal response Saix gives, though he reaches for the paper. XI holds it away from him.

"Oh, so you think these Heartless are being modeled after our own insecurities? That almost sounds wonderfully _scientific_," Marluxia continues, after glancing at the words on the sheet briefly; the way he says the word "scientific" no doubt comes off as disgusted.

He doesn't hide it, but Saix only shrugs.

"It is what I know, Marluxia. Eventually, perhaps we'll see other things." Saix raises a brow. "What are you insecure about, so that we might prepare?"

Marluxia thinks of drowning blackness.

But he doesn't give Saix the benefit of an answer; he just snorts and slams the paper back onto the desk before walking away to find something to do in the room.

---

"Look at this," his father might say, should the moment arrive; he would point with a green, scaled finger with a crooked talon, and all he could do was obey and _watch._

He was a coward then, and one might suppose a coward he stayed. The emperor -- bless his soul -- never really blamed him for it; he was far too patient and simply smiled an easygoing smile and remarked it was the way of artists to prefer to keep away from conflict. As it was, they were a _race_ of artists, whether or not his father believed it.

"Look at this," his father would say. "And remember their cruelty."

Humans were monsters. That was the lesson he was supposed to learn, anyway; they were monsters, the way they'd curse their kind and others like them, the "dark ones", and the humans would violate them and slaughter them.

So they hid in the depths of water, never to rise out, and he hoped quietly one day he'd become a human and never have to fear that persecution.

Because he was a coward.

"Look at this, and remember."

It's burned into his mind, even now.

The shriek of static is what causes Demyx to snap his eyes open; he's on his back, having no doubt rolled over on the couch, and he stares at the ceiling as he listens to one of the other two Nobodies jump at the sound.

Demyx sees _something_ crawling on the ceiling, and it'd heading towards him.

"Uhh," is all he stammers out. He scrambles away from the couch just in time, as the _thing_ leaps down at him and tears into the cushions.

It's... definitely a _strange_ thing, shaped like a human body. Yet, it moves on all fours, the _hands_ like the back legs and the feet the front, a head apparently settled between the thighs. Demyx has fallen onto his rear and he's scrambling back, but he can _see_ its head, the mouth on _sideways_ and crooked teeth tearing at the sofa.

"I think it's time to leave," Marluxia is hissing. "Demyx, hurry up!"

The thing is scuttling around like a spider, turning to stare at them, or at least it tries without a set of eyes for itself. As quickly as he can, Demyx is getting to his feet and grabbing the radio and his lead pipe, hurrying to the door to unlock it.

Saix is already moving, gripping his crowbar with a vice-like grip and taking a swing at the crawling beast. It's faster than it looks, dodging away with a sputtering hiss before rearing up on the hands, giving the berserker a solid kick in the chest, causing him to hit the wall with a loud **thump!**

Demyx winces at the sound of the diviner landing against the wall, but he manages the door open at last in spite of his hands shaking more than they should. The only reason that he finds he's not bolting out the door is when he hears something from Saix he doesn't think he's ever _heard._

Saix _panics_ and shouts at them, "Get it OFF!"

It's a prompt, unfortunately, to turn around and see that the thing's gotten its feet pinned against Saix, apparently stronger than it looks or that the diviner's gotten weaker -- which might be true, since he's the only one out of the three of them who hasn't even slept yet or quite visibly freaked out yet. Saix is _trying_ to pry it off, but he can't, and the crowbar's been knocked to the floor.

Fortunately, it's Marluxia who moves, because Demyx can't quite yet. Maybe the imagery of Saix being vulnerable in any sort of way is still new and unusual to him, but the assassin has the table leg in his hand and he smashes it into the monster's side before it's teeth can manage to graze VII. It squeals and it's knocked over; Marluxia moves himself to slam the end of the table leg into the thing's skull a few times before it twitches and stops moving.

The radio goes quiet.

Saix slides down against the wall and holds his head, not looking at either one of them. He doesn't immediately move, and Demyx wonders if he _will_ -- but he does, standing up and giving a quiet nod to Marluxia, as if that suffices as a thanks. XI doesn't demand one, but he seems _smug_ about something. The diviner picks up the crowbar slowly, letting out a loud breath of air, not quite one of relief.

"Well, uh..." Demyx clears his throat to keep it from shaking too much. "I guess we just met Larxene's Heartless, huh?"

Saix gives him a particularly sour look.

The radio suddenly shrieks to life again and they're all wincing.

"Let's go already," Marluxia snaps at Saix, as if he's taking far too long.

The diviner picks up his pace; Demyx is out into the hallway, and Marluxia is following him. Saix only pauses at the desk, snatching the framed photograph and a sheet of paper before he runs to follow the other two.


End file.
